An epilogue shows an unbilled Mia Farrow presenting Stern with a best actor award. 1 in Gotham, and Alison out of a giant Central Park rally when her water breaks before the birth of their second daughter. Long flashback ends in 1985 with police madly spiriting Stern, now No. The more apoplectic Giamatti’s character becomes, the more Stern and his cronies are pushed to on-air gags of unparalleled outrageousness, which in turn propels Stern’s show into the ratings stratosphere. At least as the network stuffed suits are depicted here, it’s a wonder they hired him at all, and Paul Giamatti gets terrific comic mileage out of his composite role as the young, Southern-accented exec who takes it upon himself to tame Howard Stern. Stern’s titanic battles with WNBC, and the hilarious shenanigans the station drove him to, serve as a fitting climax to Stern’s rise to the top. Meanwhile, his ratings soar, so it’s only a matter of time until he’s paged to the Big Apple. When that job ends ignobly, he decides that ”I’ve just got to let things fly,” which he does when he lands in Washington, D.C., meets newscaster Robin Quivers and starts working sex into his show in a big way.īantering in unbridled fashion with Quivers and early partner Fred Norris, Stern becomes notorious by having women strip in the studio, inducing one to have an orgasm while astride a woofer, and obsessing about lesbians, whom he interviews often. When Stern has a close call with infidelity with a starlet in a bathtub, Alison leaves him for a while, and he proceeds alone to Detroit, where he begins working some of his personal crazy stuff onto the air.
Stern’s equal-opportunity gibes get an early, and very funny, workout at the expense of the ”mentally challenged” patients with whom Alison works, but, in general, Stern toes the line in his initial radio station gigs in Westchester and Hartford.
The gangling Stern begins playing himself, in mustache, glasses and goofy ’70s wig, in college, where the dorky record spinner lucks out by meeting Alison (Mary McCormack) and, eventually, getting her to marry him. Spilling out his neuroses and foibles to dream airplane seat-mate Carol Alt, Stern quickly recalls childhood highlights, including his brief career as a 12-year-old puppet pornographer, his being virtually the only white kid in a black high school, and his early desire for a radio career. Warning the audience at the outset that ”everything I do is misunderstood,” Stern narrates the story of his ascent to status of New York’s No.
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Some of his trademark licentiousness pops up, mainly in re-creations of radio broadcasts, but the focus has been placed on a breezy telling of his personal and professional life, with disarming results. Prospects offshore, however, where Stern is unknown, would appear meager.īoth loved and loathed for his anything-goes, FCC-offending, sexually uninhibited, controlled anarchy on the air, Stern easily could have cashed in on his notoriety and delivered a wackier, raunchier, more scattershot film that would perhaps have pleased his hardcore radio fans but no one else. A big opening seems assured, and pic’s sweet, genuinely amusing qualities could win over quite a few non-Sternheads. Closer to a picaresque odyssey of Stern’s effort to assert his own voice on the nation’s straight-laced airwaves than to the gross-out some people may expect, this sharply made biopic starring the subject himself, along with many of his cohorts, should expand the scope of Stern’s success to films. Howard Stern rules in ”Private Parts,” a funny and unexpectedly beguiling account of the outrageous humorist’s unlikely rise to the pinnacle of radio celebrity.
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